Your hand

Here's a little experiment.

Look at your hand. What do you see? Fine lines? Popping veins? Intricate fingers? Or big bulky fingers? Pointy fingernails? Squarish nail bed? Nail polish? Why that colour? What about your palm? Constantly sweaty? Or always cold? Reddish? Or is it pale? Rough? Or baby smooth skin? What about its shape? Angular? Or turgid? Is it weak? Or is it strong?

All hands, despite how different they look, they bear a responsibility. All hands have worries, have burdens. All hands want to work for the best. Despite skin colour, gender, all hands, wants happiness. All hands wants to be cared for. All hands wants to live for something. 

But sometimes we overwork. We tend to tire our hands out. We strain and strain till the day it breaks. Till we realise, even our hands can't help us now. Till we realise all that's left to do is to use it to wipe our tears. All that we do is to clench it together, frustrated and thinking, "I could've done better" or "I don't want to do this anymore."

When will that day arrive? It already has. It is constant. We get tired so often. Too often in fact. How can we depend on ourselves? How long more can we continue to strive with our bare, weak, little hands.

There truly is only ONE hand we can depend on forever. Those hands which will never let go. Those hands which will always embrace us, despite us falling short. Those hands of He who made us.

Those pair of hands which were always there, yet we were too blind to see, or even sometimes, refuse to see.

How sweet Thy  hands. How very very sweet.

I am loved. :)